Crowed (Team Zero #2) by Rina Kent

Crow is on me. He crawls atop of me, his thighs trapping mine in between, and his sharp scowl considering me with pure anger. A tinge of fear lodges inside me. Yet, something about the harshness on his face turns his features a lot more handsome. Roguish. Ethereal.

“Apparently, the suicidal thoughts haven’t been purged out of you.” He squeezes my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Do you think it’ll be one hit and good fucking night? They have a personal grudge against you. They will skin you alive and ruin that pretty face before they’ll begin feeling satisfied. Is that what you fucking want?”

“You think I’m not scared?” I shout, hitting his chest. “I am! I’m terrified! But I won’t have you involved in this. It’s none of your business.”

“Then I’m making it my business.” His lips crash against mine. I gasp, but the sound is swallowed by his urgent, passionate strokes.

His tongue doesn’t demand access. It dives right in and feasts on me. I’m left breathless. Boneless.

A tingle shoots down my spine and pools between my legs. A booming ecstasy I never felt in my life bubbles inside me and climbs to the surface, demanding release.

No. This can’t happen.

It takes everything in me to pull back from his mouth, but his hold on my jaw keeps me locked in place.

“Go,” I mumble. “Just go. Please.”

I’m hanging to my resolve by a thread. It’s difficult to think when his touch is all over me, around me, and seeking to take refuge inside me.

But he needs to leave. At least save himself.

“I’m not going anywhere!” Crow cages my face with his hands. “Is that fucking clear?”

Tears fall on my cheeks, and I can sense my resolve crumbling and crashing to pieces. My fingers dig into Crow’s chest as I bury my face in his warm, hard skin. I’ve never felt like I wanted to keep someone, protect them, and punch them all at the same time.

“What the hell do you want from me?” I murmur, “I’m so broken.”

“What a fucking coincidence.” He lifts my head so those deep blue eyes stare at my soul. “I’m broken, too.”

“Fuck you, Crow,” I whisper my frustration.

“That’s what I’m about to do, Eloise.” He yanks my legs apart and settles between them. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll forget about death and all his bloody friends.”

I gasp as an unmistakable bulge brushes against the inside of my thigh. As if his words are dopamine, my nipples harden, straining against the cloth until it’s almost painful.

My breath hitches. My thighs shake. And I’m so hot, I think I’ll explode. Crow’s fingers brush against my ribs as he tugs my T-shirt off my head, followed by the bra.

His warm lips find my aching nipples, suckling, nibbling. Torturing. Every lap of his tongue sends a rush of euphoria to the pulsing between my legs. I squirm underneath him. My back arches, pushing off the sofa to meet his relentless strokes. My fingertips glide over his defined abs like I have wanted to ever since I first met him.

I don’t know what the hell this is, but I want more of it. More of Crow and this fire he ignites inside me.

Still twisting one of my nipples, he goes back to kissing me. As he said, there’s nothing gentle about him. Or his kiss. He devours my lips as his free hand slips underneath my shorts.

I whimper into his mouth as he traces the sensitive folds. A contraction forms at the bottom of my stomach. I’m not used to that sensation before he thrusts a finger inside me. A loud moan fills the air, and I realise it’s mine.

“Bloody hell.” Crow curses as tightness meets him. He grunts against my mouth but doesn’t stop. The double assault of his fingers against my nipple and moving inside me clenches my stomach. A stretching of sorts. A sensation so foreign and ecstatic, I suspect it’s out of this world.

The build-up has me on edge. Crow takes his sweet time with the slow rotating sensation until I become a whimpering mess.

I lift my hips, hoping he’ll do something, anything, to quench the ache burning inside me.

I wrap my hands around his waist, and the muscles flex underneath my touch. “P-please.”

The ice of his eyes lights up with mischief as he slows his movements even more. “Say that again.”

“Please…” My voice is so breathy, it’s a miracle I’m even talking. “Please do something.”

Crow thrusts another finger and curls it inside me while still keeping the back and forth of the first finger. “Like this?”

My eyes roll to the back of my head as my walls nearly fall apart. “Yes, please, yes!”

He fastens his movements then. His index and middle fingers stretch me from the inside and his thumb rubs my bundle of nerves. I unravel around him. Endless spurts of pleasure roll all over, through, and inside me. I scream his name, clutching his shoulder, afraid to fall over.

Or fall apart.

I’m barely coming to, registering the light, the heavy breaths, and the hard muscles beneath my fingertips. Only there are no muscles. I blink, and Crow is stripping out of his trousers. The tattoos on his shoulders and torso contract with the precise movements.

The trousers fall to the ground. He’s wearing nothing underneath.

I bite my lower lip.

Oh la la.

All pleasure from earlier almost vanishes. There’s no way I’ll be able to take him. And yet... oh, merde, how much I want to.